


And Yet So Similar

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: They were like ghosts.Trunks stays in the past during the missing three years.





	And Yet So Similar

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I do not own Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Super.

**And Yet So Similar**

\-----------------

They were like ghosts. 

  
  
On the other hand, he supposed, it was more accurate to say that _ he _ was the ghost. He didn’t exist. Not in this timeline at least, and he wouldn’t for a couple more years. 

 

It was that fact, coupled with the shock on Goku’s face when he'd learned of the boy’s lineage, and an overwhelming desire to get to get to know his father, that Trunks decided to stay in the past and observe his parents. Surely their relationship couldn't be as surprising as Goku let on? 

 

He justified his reasoning to the others as needing someone to help him train for the android’s arrival, as there was no one left in his time to help further his ability. 

 

“I can help with that!” Goku volunteered cheerfully, oblivious. Trunks smiled softly at the man's kindness. His mother had spoken frequently of Goku’s big heart, but stories were never quite as good as seeing the real thing in action. 

 

“Thank you,” Trunks said, “But if Vegeta doesn't mind, I'd like to train with him.” He looks over at the man who is and isn't his father, and is greeted by a harsh but unexpected glare. 

 

“Why would I waste my time training  _ you _ when I could train on my own?” 

 

Despite never knowing him, Trunks knows exactly how to appeal to his father: his mother had instilled in him much information to get him through his time here, but one lesson had stuck out most of all. “The best way to get through to your father is to appeal to his ego.” 

 

“Well,” Trunks said, “I understand you want to train on your own. I won't be a bother, I swear. But I grew up on stories of the Saiyans, specifically you. I always admired how strong you were. I have to admit it would be a dream come true to train with the Prince of the Saiyan Race.” 

 

He knows Vegeta sees right through the act, if his unimpressed scowl is anything to go by, but his mother is right; it works. 

 

“Fine. But the moment you slow me down, you're on your own, boy.” 

 

“Yes sir.” 

 

“Well if you're going to train with him, you may as well stay at Capsule Corp.” The younger version of his mother appears behind him, and it's strange to treat this woman as if he doesn't know her. Or at least, that he doesn't know her as his mother. She cannot know the truth, lest he never be born. He spares a glance at his father and wonders how on earth the man allowed himself to be distracted from training long enough to participate in the act that created him. 

 

Trunks pushes down a cringe. He doesn't want to think of that. Real parents or not, it's still gross. Necessary for his very existence, certainly, but gross. 

 

He turns to Bulma and smiles, suddenly aware of just how much his grin matches her own. Is she aware? 

 

“I appreciate that,” he says genuinely. “I'll try not to be a bother.” 

 

“You're not Vegeta, so therefore you aren't a bother,” she says, throwing a look at the Saiyan Prince who huffs and turns away, murmuring a not-so-subtle, “Bitch,” in her direction. 

 

_ How did this happen? _ Trunks wonders, aghast.  _ They hate each other! _

 

_ ** *** **  _

 

Living at Capsule Corp. is a lesson in espionage. He sometimes forgets that he's not supposed to know this place intimately, and is caught several times knowing where something is without having been told. He laughs it off as memory from time spent at the compound after the androids attack. It's not entirely untrue. 

 

Bulma buys his lie, but he sees the suspicion underneath her friendly gaze and scolds himself for being so careless and works hard to mind his words and actions. 

 

He has an easier time not referring to her as ‘mother’ because for all that she  _ is _ his mother, she isn't. His mother has streaks of grey in her hair that she doesn't mind leaving uncovered. She has the beginnings of crow’s feet and strong arms from all the time spent lifting heavy machinery while he trained with Gohan. She's no Saiyan, but she can land a hard punch. His mother doesn't worry about clothes or guys. The woman with whom he is staying flips through fashion magazines in between hours spent fiddling with machines and robots and screaming insults at her other Saiyan guest. She dresses in short, tight ensembles, and Trunks has now seen more of his mother than he ever needed to. 

 

But she isn't his mother; she's a young woman who is too smart and too stubborn and too brave for her own good. 

 

It's no wonder Vegeta becomes interested in her. 

 

He remembers asking his mother how she and his father had gotten together. Bulma had smiled and simply said that it just... happened. 

 

Trunks can't believe that. So when he isn't training (which is rare, since Vegeta has deemed him a worthy-enough opponent and demands he train with him  _ all the time _ ) he watches. Watches the interactions between his mother and father. Watches as they fight and scream and insult each other. Watches as he threatens her and she flips him off and throws things at him. 

 

Trunks becomes a little less optimistic every day. At this rate, they'll  _ never _ find each other. Not when they're too busy cursing each other in alien languages they think the other doesn't understand. He fingers the capsule in his pocket that holds the time machine, and remembers the word his mother wrote on the side:  _ Hope.  _

 

He's never felt so hope _ less _ . 

 

Then the gravity machine explodes. 

 

His father takes the brunt of the damage, but he's scraped up too. He's able to sit on his own from the wreckage- though just barely- but Vegeta is down and isn't getting up. There's a shard of metal sticking out from his shoulder and Trunks- who should be used to such scenes- retches. 

 

Bulma rushes to Vegeta, Yamcha in the background, waiting anxiously. Trunks cradles his wrist, which might be broken, and watches as Bulma talks to Vegeta, helps him sit up, gets her hands covered in his blood which ruins her shirt, and snaps at Yamcha to run to the med bay. She holds him, gently smacks his face to keep him awake and starts gently insulting him so that he'll argue with her and not lose consciousness. 

 

They get him on a stretcher, and when he's gone she wades through the wreckage to Trunks. He stands, grimacing as his leg gives out but she catches him and it's so wonderful to be in his mother’s arms again! He sags against her and she hums a soft sound before escorting him to the med bay. 

 

He's easily patched up. A stent, some bandages, and strict instructions to rest from Bulma and he's ready to go. He asks to help her with Vegeta but she shakes her head and sends him away, telling him he can best help her by resting. 

 

He pretends to leave, then returns to watch as she fusses over Vegeta. She holds his hand in hers and talks to him even as he's unconscious. Trunks watches her, and finally he sees what might be affection between them. Or at least, from her. Gone are the heated glares and harsh words, but now she sits at his side and doesn't move for anything. 

 

Not even Yamcha. 

 

Trunks knows Yamcha. Knows the man hates him for what he represents. But this Yamcha doesn't know it yet, so he sits beside Trunks in the den nearest the med bay and sighs. 

 

Trunks bites. “You okay, man?” 

 

Yamcha shrugs. “I don't know, Future.” It's the name that Krillin jokingly gave him when he said he couldn't reveal his real name. It stuck, and is equally amusing and frustrating. “I just…” He sighs. “You're pretty objective. Maybe you can shed some light.” 

 

“I can't give anything away.” And how many times has he had to say  _ that?  _

 

“No I know that,” Yamcha says with a wave of his hand. “But you can shed some light on something happening  _ now.”  _

 

Trunks knows. “You think Bulma and Vegeta have feelings for each other.” 

 

Yamcha sighs and nods once, weakly. “If it's that obvious, then it must be true.” 

 

Trunks can't help but feel bad for the guy. He can see that Yamcha cares for Bulma, is a truly decent guy who is kind and compassionate. But he isn't Trunks’ father, and that's really all the boy needs to know.

 

“I think if you are worried,”Trunks says carefully, “You should talk to her.” 

 

“You think?” 

 

Trunks nods. “It might not go well. It might. I can't say. I probably shouldn't tell you to do anything.” But if Bulma is confronted about her feelings, maybe things will change. Trunks wants his parents to get together, and though he knows he shouldn't interfere, he can't help but gently nudge events toward their proper place. He feels bad for what he's going to cause Yamcha to go through. But it's due to happen sooner or later, so it may as well happen now. 

 

“I think I will, then,” Yamcha says, resolute. “When she's not distracted by caring for him.” 

 

“I can watch him,” Trunks offers. He almost feels bad when Yamcha grins. 

 

“Thanks, man!” 

 

They wait an hour and speak of other things, then go to the med bay, where Bulma is asleep, head resting next to Vegeta’s arm. Trunks knocks gently and she stirs, sits up, and flushes when she sees him and Yamcha. 

 

“Sorry,” she says as she stands, stretching. 

 

“Why don't we go get something to eat,” Yamcha offers. Bulma hesitates. 

 

“I'll watch Vegeta,” Trunks says, “I can take care of him.” 

 

Bulma isn't entirely convinced but after a moment she relents. “I  _ am _ hungry.” 

 

“Great! Let's go!” Yamcha says, turning to lead the way out. Bulma follows but stops in front of Trunks. She looks up at him, the worry in her eyes making her look just like his own mother. 

 

“Call me if  _ anything _ changes.” 

 

“I promise.” 

 

She looks back at Vegeta, smiles softly, and leaves with Yamcha. 

 

She comes back two hours later, alone. 

 

Trunks knows he shouldn’t, but he feels an acute sense of relief at having the other man out of the way. One less obstacle to keep his parents apart. 

 

** *** ** 

 

When it finally happens, he's the first to know. 

 

He and Bulma have bonded in the months he's been here. She knows he knows her other self, and idle questions about the future soon melt into questions about  _ him,  _ and then soon the questions shift into conversations that are about everything and nothing, and before Trunks has time to contemplate the  _ how _ of it all, Bulma begins coming to Trunks for advice and gossip and a laugh. 

 

It's like old times, in a way. He was always close to his mother, and bonding with the young Bulma like this makes him acutely aware of just how much he misses the older version of her. But this Bulma is so similar to her counterpart; a spitfire whose passion, brilliance, and kindness leaves Trunks in awe. He sometimes can't believe this woman is his mother- that she had the world at her fingertips and she let it all go because of her love for him. 

 

He wishes he could tell her how much she means to him, but he doesn't exist yet, so he keeps his feelings in check, and enjoys being Bulma's confidant. 

 

One autumn morning, Trunks comes to the kitchen for a quick breakfast before he joins his father in the training room. When he enters, he sees Bulma seated at the kitchen table, face flushed as she grips a cup of coffee in her hands. There's already a cup out for him. He joins her, looking at her, worried. Her face is pale, haunted. He knows that look all too well. For his mother, it was the look of a hopeful project that had just failed. For this Bulma- 

 

“I slept with Vegeta,” she says without greeting. Trunks chokes on his coffee. He hadn't been ready for  _ that _ . 

 

“What?” 

 

She looks away, in the direction of the gravity chamber. “Last night. It… Happened.” 

 

She's confessed to him already- numerous times and in various stages of resignation and anger- that she has feelings for the Saiyan. But now it's finally happened,  _ somehow _ , and his existence is far more certain than it was before, and he feels himself breathe a little more easily. 

 

“Good,” he says, doing his best impression of his father's nonchalant response to anything regarding emotion. 

 

Bulma blinks. “Yeah?” 

 

Trunks nods. “Yeah. You're good for each other. You're good for him.”

 

“This happens in the future, doesn't it.” 

 

It's not a question. Trunks blinks, unsure of what to say. “There's a reason you support this, isn't there,” she says, accusatory, “You're not just here to be buddy-buddy with me, much as I appreciate it.”

 

“I'm here to help defeat the androids,” Trunks says carefully. “Anything else I try to avoid impacting.” 

 

_ Directly _ , he thinks. 

 

She gives him a look that says she doesn't believe him.

 

“Well, it happened.”

 

“And are you happy?” Because other than guaranteeing his existence, his mother's happiness is what matters most to him. 

 

Bulma smiles. “You know, I think I am.” 

 

“Then that's all that matters.” 

 

He drains his coffee, grabs a couple bananas to scarf down, then heads out to the gravity chamber. Vegeta says nothing to him- they've trained together every day for the past several months but they aren't close- but he's a little less caustic. He exhibits a touch more patience than normal, and only calls Trunks a fool twice in the six hours they work. 

 

It suddenly starts to make sense for Trunks. They  _ are _ good for each other. Even if his father won't ever admit to it. 

 

** *** ** 

 

“I'm pregnant.” 

 

Trunks looks up, eyes wide as they land on Bulma’s stomach, and it's almost nauseatingly weird to think that  _ he's  _ in there.  _ Don't think about it too much, _ he tells himself. 

 

“Really?” He says, scooting his chair back to give her his undivided attention. 

 

“You're not surprised.” She's too smart for her own good. 

 

“I mean. You  _ were _ having a lot of sex.” He knows. He could hear it sometimes. He will forever be traumatized. 

 

“Sure. But you're not surprised.” 

 

“No,” he agrees. “Was Vegeta?” 

 

Her face is pained. “I- I haven't told him yet.” 

 

He can see right through her. His mother bites her lips when she lies and this Bulma does the same thing. Trunks doesn't question the lie and instead stands and approaches his mother. “I'm happy for you.” 

 

She lets out a breath. “Yeah? Good.” She looks away and sighs. “Good. Someone should be.” 

 

He takes her chin in his hand lifts her eyes to his. “I'll talk to him.” 

 

Her eyes fill with tears and she hugs him to her. The embrace is sudden and unexpected, but Trunks revels in his mother’s arms. “Thank you.” 

 

** *** ** 

 

“I assume you know.” His father's face is unreadable, almost bored. 

 

“Yes. Congratulations are in order,” Trunks says as he begins stretching. He pretends to be invested in his work, but he's eying his father to gauge his reaction. 

 

“Pfft. I couldn't care less.” 

 

And just like that, Trunks suddenly understands something his mother had tried to hide from him his entire life. All her vague answers suddenly make sense. All her changing the subject and hesitancy come back to him and he realizes why she'd been so reticent to share such information with him. His heart crumbles as he stares, pained, at the father who didn't even want him. He hadn't expected the man to be  _ thrilled _ , but he at least thought- 

 

“You have an heir,” Trunks tries, willing himself not to react, “A child to raise up in your image. To carry on the legacy of the Saiy-” 

 

“I. Don't. Care.” 

 

Vegeta turns and leaves then, and Trunks is left alone, thinking that perhaps he shouldn't have stayed after all. The memory of an unknown father is better than this. His mother had known that his father had died not caring about his family. All this time, she'd been protecting him. 

 

He can't protect this Bulma, but he can offer comfort. And when he learns a week later that Vegeta is gone, he has no choice but to be there for his mother as she grows swollen with child- with him. He holds her in the hours after Vegeta’s departure, cursing his father while his mother cries in his arms, lamenting that her child is fatherless. 

 

“You'll do fine,” he assures her, wishes he could tell her the truth. That she  _ does _ do fine without him. That he loves her more than he can ever express. But he can only be the strange boy from the future who is her close friend. So he comforts her as a friend would, and silently curses his father for being such a coward. 

 

** *** ** 

He joins her for her first ultrasound and when he sees the small smudge on the screen that's supposed to be him, he nearly has an identity crisis and grips his mother's hand to try to steady himself. This is all too strange. 

 

When the doctor congratulates them, Trunks is quick to correct them. “I'm not her husband; I'm a friend.” 

 

And it's true. He is her friend, possibly her only one right now. With the others training, they've no time for social calls. Yamcha is long gone too. So Trunks stays with her during the day, then trains at night while she sleeps. She tells him he doesn't have to stay with her- that she's an adult and not a lost little puppy in need of supervision. But he sees the pain in her eyes and the way she takes hard, sharp breaths as another version of himself grows inside of her, tearing her apart and draining her of her energy. 

 

He holds her hair as she vomits, and tells himself that when he gets home, he owes his mother a thousand and one thank you’s. 

 

She tries to laugh the whole thing off, and sometimes she succeeds. Talks about being a fabulous single mother and that she'll start a trend. Talks about how she ought to put her kid to work by snapping photos of it in designer baby clothes. Says that regardless of whether or not it's a boy or a girl she's going to dress it in head to toe pink  _ just _ to spite Vegeta. Trunks laughs with her, and pretends not to notice when she wipes away a stray tear. She deserves some dignity in this after all, and he'll give her what he can. 

 

** *** ** 

 

“It's a boy.” 

 

Trunks looks up from where he's doing push-ups to see Bulma standing before him. She'd gone to the doctor without him; had said she wanted to get used to doing things on her own. He slides into a sitting position and looks up at her. “Boys aren't terrible.” 

 

Bulma smiles. “Not always,” she agrees, then sits down next to him. Her stomach is protruding more and more, and she's more and more beautiful every day. “I thought about waiting, to choose a name.” He knows she means waiting for Vegeta. “But he's  _ my _ baby.  _ I'll  _ name him if that asshole can't be bothered to be here.” 

 

“Do you have a name?” 

 

“I was thinking Trunks.” 

 

It's been so long since he's heard his own name that he wants to cry. He's done it. He's here. He exists and it's more real now than ever. He grins. 

 

“I like it.” 

 

She looks at him and smiles hopefully. “Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Glancing down at her stomach, Bulma rests her hands upon it. “Hello, Trunks,” she whispers, voice full of love, “I'm your mother. And I'm going to take care of you. Don't you worry.” 

 

_ I won’t,  _ Trunks wants to say, but doesn't. 

 

** *** ** 

He's distracted, guard down when his secret is finally revealed. He's reading, taking a break from his rigorous training to let his body rest and allow his mind to work. His mother had always stressed the importance of both. 

 

He hadn't seen his mother in seven hours. She'd said something about a top secret project and she'd come find him when she was finished. He’s absorbed in the words on the page when she finally appears. 

 

“Hey, Trunks,” his mother calls from nearby. 

 

He turns the page, marks his spot, and looks up. “Yes, moth-” he freezes when he sees the younger, pregnant version of Bulma standing there, holding a thick dossier in her hands. Her smirk is devious and proud. He looks just like her. 

 

“I knew it.” 

 

Trunks blinks, shocked. Bulma strides over to him and drops the dossier onto his lap. “I got to thinking,” she says, voice smug as she speaks, “About how you were a Super Saiyan. We only know of a very few select Saiyans on Earth so I figured you had to be related to one of them. I decided to test your blood against Goku and Vegeta’s and lo and behold my surprise at discovering you shared the same DNA as that asshole.” She steps back to eye him. “Then I thought, ‘Well shit. I'm pregnant with his kid so I wonder what that means.’ So I did some tests and guess what?” 

 

Trunks doesn't have to guess. He slides the dossier aside and stands, towering over his mother. With a soft smile he whispers, “Hello, Mother.” 

 

Her smugness melts in an instant, and she's in his arms, sobbing. He holds her to him, so grateful to have the truth out. If anyone could figure it out, it would've been her. 

 

“Oh, Trunks, my son,” she whispers against him, squeezing him as tightly as she does twenty years from now. She steps back after a moment but doesn't release him. “Let me look at you,” she says, one hand moving up to cup his cheeks. “You have his eyes,” she whispers and he knows she's wondering how she never noticed before. 

 

“I have your smile,” he whispers. She grins and nods. “You do. And your grandfather’s hair.” 

 

A sigh escapes her and she resumes her hold on him, keeping him close to her. “Did he know? Who you are?” 

 

Trunks shakes his head. “If he did, he didn't tell me.” 

 

“I'm sorry for how he acted. That must have been painful, seeing him leave like that. Knowing what it meant. Not being able to come to me…” 

 

“It hurt like hell,” he admits softly. 

 

Bulma pulls back again. “Well, he can  _ go _ to hell,” she snaps, taking his chin in her hands firmly, “ _ I _ want you.  _ I _ love you.” 

 

It's his turn to pull her to him, and he lifts her off the ground in a tight hug, careful not to squish himself between them. “I love you too, Mother.” 

 

She laughs. “Is that what you call me? Mother?” He places her back on the ground but doesn't let go. 

 

“Usually.” 

 

“I like it.” 

 

“It suits you.” 

 

They release each other, and she lets her hands rest on her stomach. Glancing down, she smiles, then looks up at her older son, horrified. “Oh Kami, I told you we had sex!” 

 

Trunks turns red and laughs, hand coming to scratch the back of his neck. “It was awkward,” he admits, “But I'll endure it as long as it means I'm born.” 

 

“That's right,” Bulma says, hands idly rubbing her stomach as she thinks. “This must be so strange for you. Knowing you're….here,” she points to the bump. 

 

“No weirder than living with my parents before they became my parents. Or seeing people that I watched die now alive or-” he breaks off with a shaky breath. 

 

“I know, sweetie,” she says, and while she's embraced being a mother for several months, she truly embodies the role now, and leads her son to sit with her on the couch. 

 

“You're here now, though. It won't change things for you, but one version of you will get to grow up with everyone who loves you. And there are so many.” 

 

She looks away, pained. 

 

“I think father cares,” he sighs, “He’s just…” 

 

“A stubborn asshole with commitment issues?” 

 

“That's one way to put it.” 

 

“It's the  _ only _ way to put it.” She waits a beat then asks, “He dies, doesn't he?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Do I… How do I handle it?” 

 

“I was only a baby when it happened,” Trunks whispers, “You tell me you're okay. I can hear you cry sometimes at night though. You don't talk about it and I don't ask. It's the one thing we don’t really talk about.” 

 

“But we're close, otherwise?” 

 

“Very.  We're all each other has. Besides Grandpa.” 

 

Bulma nods and clings to her son. “Well, as long as I have you,” she says, determined. She's resigning herself to her fate, but Trunks is determined to give his mother a better future. Or die trying. 

 

** *** ** 

 

He holds her hand when she gives birth. Just like in the future, he's all she has. She screams in agony, a pain he's sure is worse than anything he's ever endured. He keeps his eyes on her face, uncomfortable with the reality of what's going on, but this is his mother, bringing him into the world, and he'll help her get through it, comfort be damned. 

 

Finally he's born. Bulma sags in relief and reaches out to take her infant son into her arms. She's crying, and hugs the baby to her. Trunks rubs her arm comfortingly and finally she turns to look at him. 

 

“Trunks, meet Trunks.” 

 

Trunks looks down at the infant version of himself and can't help but feel a weird sense of vertigo overtake him. He's looking at himself, dizzy with the knowledge that this child is  _ him _ , separate but the same. 

 

“What's your middle name?” 

 

Trunks looks at his mother, who is watching him expectantly. He shakes his head. “You tell me.” 

 

She makes a face.”Really? Ugh. I'm blaming that lack of judgement on the drugs.” 

 

“You thought I should have a part of him.”  _ Even if he wants nothing of me _ . 

 

“And I think that now, begrudgingly,” Bulma says as she studies the baby. “Trunks Vegeta. Ugh. There are worse names I suppose.” 

 

He can't help but laugh at that. “Not many.” 

 

They smile, and he leaves to give her privacy to feed the baby. He's greeted by Krillin and Yamcha, who had both paid separate but surprise visits to her in recent weeks, both stunned to see her with child. 

 

Trunks tries to forget that they asked if the child was his. 

 

“She's fine,” Trunks tells them. “She has a son. His name is Trunks.” 

 

He feels a strange sense of pride at that. For all that he's longed to know his father, for all that he hoped his father might see him and be proud, he understands now that all this time he could have been proud to be  _ her _ son. He makes a note to tell his mother as soon as possible- both of them. 

 

** *** ** 

 

His father is back. And he doesn't care about his family. This fact is made abundantly clear when Bulma and his younger self leave and have their copter blown up. Trunks rushes to save them, and once they're on solid ground, unharmed but stunned, he turns on his father and proceeds to lash out. He's held in so much pent up anger at his father for so long that it feels good to release it, to let his father know just what he thinks of him. And he isn't impressed. 

 

He's in the middle of his tirade when he feels a small, familiar hand on his back. “Trunks, I appreciate it, but that's enough.” Her voice is soft and gentle, motherly, and he snaps his mouth shut. 

 

“Trunks?” Krillin says, scratching his head in confusion, “I thought that was the name of your kid...oh.” 

 

The gang all has their eyes on Trunks and he flushes unwillingly. He glances at Vegeta who is silent, but the man is staring at him as if he's rethinking everything. 

 

Trunks decides to leave things be. He doesn't owe an explanation. At least not now. He turns to his mother. “We have to get you two out of here.” 

 

Bulma nods. “I know. Be safe, son.” 

 

She glances behind him to give Vegeta a pointed look, then begins to make plans with Yajirobe to return home. 

 

Vegeta has yet to say a word. Trunks wonders what that means. 

 

** *** ** 

He spends a year with his father in a magical room that is vast and endless, like the things he wants to say to the man across from him. 

 

They go four months in relative silence before Trunks finally snaps. 

 

They're fighting, training, and Vegeta calls him a half-rate, pathetic excuse of a fighter who is too much like his annoying mother. 

 

And Trunks decides he's had enough. He’ll endure a lot of shit from this man, but he will  _ not _ hear any insults directed toward his mother. He lashes out, no Bulma of any kind to stop him, and he rails on Vegeta, punching and blasting mercilessly, screaming until his throat is raw. Vegeta eventually hits him hard enough to keep him down, and Trunks spits out a mouthful of blood as he tries to catch his breath. 

 

“All she ever did was love you,” he snapped breathlessly, “All she did was  _ care _ . What makes that worthy of your derision?” 

 

Vegeta scoffs but doesn't answer. Trunks stands. “You know what I think? I think you're afraid.” Vegeta catches his stare, glares. “I think you let her in and realized that you're too weak to actually keep her close. You-” 

 

Trunks is flat on his back before he can comprehend the pain in his nose, and Vegeta is grabbing him by the throat. 

 

“Call me weak again, and I'll snap your neck and leave you here to rot.” 

 

He lets Trunks go roughly and walks away. The half-Saiyan coughs, throat burning, and decides he no longer cares what his father thinks. He pulls himself up and says clearly, “I'm glad I grew up without you. If this version of me is lucky, he'll have the same fate.” 

 

It's harsh and horrible and he doesn't mean it at all because while he hates the man before him, he also loves him, because his mother loved him and his mother doesn't make bad choices. But Trunks has something to prove now, and so he does what he's learned his father is best at: being cruel. 

 

Vegeta stops short, but doesn't look back. “He will.” Then he disappears into the void and Trunks doesn't see him for three weeks. He thinks maybe he ought to apologize, but he summons his mother's stubbornness (or maybe it's his father’s?) and he doesn't say a word. 

 

Somehow  _ that _ endears Vegeta to him, if only a little, and by the end of their year, they shake hands, and walk out side by side. 

 

It's not much, and he's still angry and ashamed and hurt, but it's more than he had, if only by a margin. 

 

Bulma greets them-  _ him-  _ with a hug. She doesn't acknowledge Vegeta but instead asks Trunks how he is. 

 

“The boy is  _ fine,”  _ Vegeta snaps. “Your constant worrying will make him soft.” He storms away at that and when Bulma turns to throw a heap of insults his way, she stills once Trunks places a hand on her shoulder. 

 

“It's okay,” he whispers, “Just let it be.” 

 

** *** ** 

 

There's a hot, searing pain. Then the world goes silent and still. Suddenly he's wished back; learns that it's over. They won. The world is safe. 

 

Android 18 is alive but changed. Cell is nothing but a memory. Trunks takes a breath and enjoys the sensation of air filling his lungs. Enjoys the understanding that despite his screw ups, despite all logic and all understanding, they won. 

 

In another world, he will grow up with his family, his friends. He spares a glance at Vegeta, who is caught staring between himself and his actual son, who is babbling away happily in Yamcha's arms. 

 

That fact doesn't bring him much comfort, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. He's too busy being assaulted by his mother- her arms wound tightly around his neck as she clings to him, going back and forth from claiming how happy she is to see him to chastising him for the hole in his armor- a telltale image that he doesn't have to explain.

 

“Are you okay?” He hands fidget with the hole, and he catches her hands, brings them up to kiss her knuckles. 

 

“Yes, Mother. I am.” 

 

She smiles a watery smile, then resumes hugging him, and he's never been one to begrudge his mother her affectionate ways and he isn't going to start now. 

 

The others gather and talk, mainly of what to do now that Goku is gone. Trunks glances over at Gohan, the boy war-hardened and distant. He's not crying, not saying a word. Trunks remembers that look. It's the one that greets him in the mirror every time he can manage to look. 

 

Later, once things settle and the group begins to disperse, Trunks moves away from his mother and asks Gohan if he can accompany him home. Gohan nods wordlessly and they fly off. 

 

Gohan, his master at least, was always too smart for his own good, so it's no surprise to Trunks when this Gohan finds a clearing and lands. He's facing away from Trunks but speaks, “Whatever you want to say to me, just do it.”

 

Trunks can hear the ‘please’ that lingers under the harsh request. Gohan had always been polite, even in his demands. 

 

Sighing, Trunks steps up to Gohan, moving around him so he can face the younger version of his best friend and mentor. 

 

“I'm not going to say anything,” he says, falling to his knees to hug the young boy in the same comforting manner his mother had held onto him. 

 

It takes Gohan only a moment, but then he latches onto Trunks, hands gripping the ruined armor, and he  _ weeps _ . For the people who lost their lives, for his father, his mother, for himself. For the childhood he never got to have. Trunks cries with him, for the same things. They are the same, now. One tragic fate given over to another, and for a moment Trunks wonders if his meddling was worth it. They'd both grown up without a father, and for all Trunks’ effort, it seemed they were destined to the same fate.

 

Trunks clings to Gohan closer. No matter the timeline, life remained steadfastly unkind. 

 

** *** ** 

 

He stays as Gohan talks to his mother, watches mutely as they grieve. Chichi stoically makes a meal and insists Trunks stay and he does so simply to appease her. Eventually he leaves and hovers above the house as he listens to the faint sound of Chichi telling Gohan that he's going to be a big brother. 

 

It's not the same as having a father; but Trunks knows how great of a mentor and brother and friend Gohan can be. Fate is still unkind, but perhaps it is not without its mercies. 

 

He returns to Capsule Corp. and wanders inside, thinking for a moment that no one is back yet. Then he hears something outside on the patio and makes his way toward the back. Pausing, he lowers his ki and sneaks closer, listening with his superior hearing as his parents talk to each other. For a moment he thinks they're arguing. 

 

“-Because he loves you.” 

 

“Tch.” 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

Vegeta is silent for a long moment. Trunks thinks the man won't answer, when he does: “You shouldn't.” 

 

Trunks can imagine his mother's smirk as she replies, “Since when have I done  _ anything _ I'm supposed to do?” 

 

Vegeta doesn't answer. Simply lowers his arms from where they're crossed in front of his chest and looks away. Trunks wonders what he's thinking. 

 

“You could stay, you know,” Bulma presses, “We don't have to be together, if you don't want. I'm not going to push. But I've been with that boy for three years and I know he loves me but the way he talks about you…” She sighs. “You're his hero. Not Goku. You. He's waited his whole life to meet you. And I won't insult your intelligence by pretending  _ that _ went well. Because it didn't. But now  _ your _ Trunks has the chance to grow up with you. To be your heir. To learn how to be a proper Saiyan!” 

 

She pauses to choke back a sob and finishes with a pleading, “Don't deprive my son of his father. Not again.” 

 

“You speak of the adult as if he were yours.” 

 

She draws a sharp breath, indignant. “He  _ is _ mine. While he's here, he's mine. If you don't want to be a part of that, in any capacity, then that's on  _ you _ .” 

 

“I do.” 

 

She stops short. Trunks feels his heart skip with hope. “What?” She asks for them both. 

 

“I…” It's clear he doesn't know how to voice his feelings. Trunks isn't surprised. “I do. I do want my son.”

 

He watches as his mother takes a shaking breath, smile spreading over her lips. “Oh. Good.”

 

“...And you.”

 

She blinks, and Trunks’ jaw drops. 

 

“What?” 

 

“I… want you as well.” 

 

“I'm not going anywhere.” 

 

“Nor am I.” 

 

It's a side of his father he didn't know existed, but suddenly every kind thing his own mother ever said about Vegeta comes rushing to his mind, and he thinks he finally understands how his mother could still love the man after so many years. 

 

Deep down, he is a good man. 

 

And despite it all, Trunks is proud to be his son. 

 

He watches as his mother wraps her arms around Vegeta’s broad shoulders, and thinks he ought to make his exit before things get a little too romantic for his liking. They are  _ still  _ his parents, after all. 

 

He backs away, then flinches as he hears his mother call out, “Trunks, be a dear and go check on yourself. I might be a while.” 

 

Feeling his cheeks burn hot he turns around and calls out, “Yes, mother.” 

 

He can hear his father curse harshly as he rushes off, and despite the sorrow and sadness that surrounds them all, despite all the loss and suffering, Trunks finds himself smiling. 

 

** *** **

It's time to go. 

 

He sets the date on the time machine to an hour after he originally left. For his mother, he'll have barely been gone. But he's lived an entire life here, and he can't wait to tell her about it. 

 

The others gather at Capsule Corp. to bid him farewell, and amongst the crowd of well wishers is his father. 

 

Trunks wants more than anything to clear the air with this man, to pave a strong foundation between Vegeta and his son. So while the others eat and chat, Trunks seeks out his father, who is reclining under a tree, a part of the group but still separate. 

 

Trunks says nothing as he sits beside his father. Vegeta grunts in acknowledgement and for a long while it's the only thing said between them. Eventually, Trunks speaks. 

 

“Take care of her,” he says, nodding toward Bulma. Vegeta scoffs. 

 

“She can take care of herself.” For the first time, Trunks agrees wholeheartedly with his father. 

 

“I know,” and he does. Oh, he  _ does _ . “But still. For some reason I'll never understand, she loves you.” 

 

“A weak, earthling emotion.” 

 

“For what it's worth, I love you too.” 

 

Vegeta is silent for a long while. Trunks looks ahead, watching his mother and her friends. 

 

“You're just like your mother.” 

 

“I take that as a compliment.” They both watch as baby Trunks crawls after a bug, gets frustrated and stands to chase it on chunky, unsteady feet. He's only four months old. 

 

Vegeta grunts again. Says nothing. Eventually Trunks sighs. “It's probably weak of me to apologize, but I'm sorry for what I said in the time chamber. I should never have been so disrespectful. Speaking out of anger like that was-” he pauses, searching for the words, “Was-”

 

“Was like looking into a mirror and seeing myself,” Vegeta finishes softly. “You have more of me in you than you realize.” He tosses Trunks a look that is equally annoyed but prideful. “Hope you're not too disappointed.” 

 

Trunks shakes his head. “Nah. I'll cope.” 

 

“You're a decent fighter,” Vegeta offers, and Trunks knows the complement had to have been hard to verbalize. 

 

“You're a decent father,” Trunks supplies back, the words equally difficult. “Or, I think you will be.” 

 

He watches as his young self hobbles and wobbles and half-crawls toward them. Notices Vegeta's eyes on his son. Sees Bulma watching from a distance, unsure of whether to come collect the boy or not. When she meets the older Trunks’ eyes, he gives her a half smile and she visibly relaxes, and studies her infant son with easy fascination. 

 

Trunks crawls into his father's lap, gurgling and laughing and babbling. Vegeta stares down at the chubby but strong and sure boy, and Trunks thinks he sees a small smile tugging at his father’s lips. It's a start. 

 

He leaves an hour later feeling at peace, and he waves goodbye to his parents- both of whom wave back from their spot directly next to each other- and returns to his broken and desolate future, bringing with him the strength he gained from his father, and the hope he gained from his mother. 

 

He returns home to where they all truly are ghosts and embraces his mother- older and weary and strong and sad and beautiful- and thinks that for the first time in a long time, the future looks bright. 

 

“Mother,” he whispers, holding her close, noticing how her past self felt so different and yet so similar, but still somehow her embrace is nothing compared to the woman who holds him now, “I'm home.” 


End file.
